Our Story
by Casey.Collins
Summary: They all have pasts. Delve deeper into the characters you thought you knew. Lots of characters and Plot. Hopefully will go through the whole series. Rating may change pairings yet to be determined.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Titans or Batman. **

**A/N:** Woo! My first fanfiction. Please be kind in reviews but also be constructive! Conctructive critisism is awesome. In fact Review in general are awesome so don't hesitate to push that little review button or pm me.

This is just a preview and So it only focuses on Robin but all the titans have a chance to shine in the coming chapters. So hold in there Fans of BB, Rae, Star, and Cy!

This story is about the lives of our favourite super teens starting from before they became titans and moving through the series. I also have plans to include characters not included in the show like Ravager and Wondergirl. So tell me what characters YOU (yes you) want to read about. Also slash? Yes? No? If yes then between who? and evenif you don't want slash what pairings do you want to see? I want your input!

So without further ado: **Our Story: The preview**

**Preview**

Robin blinked his eyes open. The dim light from the setting sun streaming through the open window cast a pink light over the room. He was lying in his bed. Warm and safe and sore. Why was he so sore?

Robin tried to remember what had happened to him.

_He was in the bat-cave. An alarm went off. Someone was causing trouble in Gotham. Who? _

_He was on his motor bike, following the bat-mobile. Why wasn't he in the bat-mobile? He was driving in and out of cars. He was… he was avoiding being seen. By Batman? Why would he try to stay out of sight of Batman?_

_He was on a roof. It was raining. Batman was there. Batgirl was there. Batgirl was serious, intent on the task at hand. Batman was angry. It was a quiet anger, but he could feel it. Intense, simmering, and directed at him. Why was Batman angry with him? Did it have to do with the weird traffic hide-and-seek?_

_He heard a bang. He heard Batgirl scream. It was... it was something. He didn't have the right word to describe it. Primal, maybe. Terrified for sure. Terrified for him, but why? _

_He saw Batman looking at him, new anger etched into the Bat's shrouded features. Like Batgirl's scream the expression was pure. Pure hatred, pure anger. _

_He felt pain coursing through his shoulder. He saw Batman's scowl, he saw Batgirl's grimace, and he saw a smile. A blood red smile, set in a chalk white face, framed with lank acid green hair. He saw a gun._

Robin opened his eyes. He finally remembered everything that had happened the night before.

Batman had gotten a report of the Joker causing trouble in Gotham. When Robin had prepared to go after the clown, Batman had stopped him and forced him to stay home. Instead Robin snuck out into the night on his motorcycle and trailed Batman through the city. When they had reached the roof, where the Joker had set up shop, it was too late for Robin to be sent back. But that didn't stop Batman from being furious at the boy for his disobedience. Batgirl had also responded to the call. So it was the three of them that burst onto the roof in the torrent of rain. Bad, sinister jokes and innuendos poured from the joker's mouth almost as thick and fast as the rain itself. Then the fight broke out. It was a basic fight with the henchmen being taken down fairly easily and Batman making a bee-line for the Joker. But then there was a gun. Not so surprising, the trio was used to getting guns pulled on them. But then there was a bang. Still not surprising, they were used to dodging bullets. But then there was a scream. That still wouldn't have been surprising except that it had come from Batgirl. Robin looked over at her, wondering if she had been hit. But there were no wounds. That's when he realized that she hadn't just screamed. She had screamed his name. That's when he felt the pain, when he heard the Joker start to laugh, when he saw the Batman go into a berserk attack on the villain, and when he passed out.

Robin got out of bed. He was wearing pajama pants, but no shirt, and his right shoulder was wrapped with bandages. He slipped into his slippers and walked down the hall.

He had a good idea where Bruce would be at this time.

The door to the study was slightly ajar and artificial light was spilling out under the door carrying hushed voices with it. Robin approached quietly, not wanting to disturb Bruce if he was in the middle of something.

"…not his choice. If I hadn't been there things could have gotten serious fast. Things did get serious." That was Bruce, and Robin had a pretty good idea what he was talking about.

" But sir, do you not think you are being a little rash?" Alfred. No one else could be proper, respectful, and condescending at the same time, all the while making you feel guilty for your every misdeed. Often times Robin had entertained the thought of having Alfred give the Arkham inmates a stern talking to, after that they would have no choice but to straighten up and be proper ladies and gentlemen.

"Not rash. This has to be done. It's too dangerous otherwise."

"What about Miss Gordon are you imposing this ruling on her as well?"

"She wasn't shot. She isn't my ward." Bruce's voice was tense as if he were tired of the conversation, but also strained like he was still undecided on the point of 'Miss Gordon', "Besides you can't say that you're displeased by this decision. You want him safe."

"Of course I do, however, I also want him happy. Something tells me Master  
Richard will not be happy about giving up Robin, if he does so at all."

No! Robin backed away from the door. Give up Robin? Give up Robin! Never! The words "Give up" weren't even in his dictionary and to be followed by "Robin"! That was wrong, impossibly wrong. How could he give up who he is? He is more Robin than Richard. No, he would not give up Robin. Even if it meant giving up everything else.

Robin walked through the door to the study and past the shocked faces of Bruce and Alfred. He did not look at them or acknowledge their presence. When he reached the old grandfather clock, he reached up and moved the hands to 10:47. The familiar portal opened and he walked through.

As he walked down the long stone staircase he could hear footsteps following him down. One set. One set that he would not have heard if their owner did not wish him to. The steps of the Bat.

At the bottom of the stair Robin headed for the armory. He retrieved his uniform and began to change into the bright pigmented clothing. He was about to pull his under shirt on when his bicep was grabbed in a tight grip. "Dick, stop." The order was hesitant. It was clear that this wasn't how Bruce had pictured Robin finding out that he was being fired.

"No. Now please let go so I can finish putting on MY clothes." Robin tried to wrench his arm out of Bruce's vice like grip.

"Dick, how much did you hear?"

"I heard that I was being thrown to the curb. And if that's the case I would like to be well armed."

"Not to the curb. Dick you violated orders, put civilians in danger, and compromised what should have been an easy mission. Not to mention that you put me, Barbara, the city, and the case in jeopardy because of your carelessness." Bruce punctuated his list of Robin's failings by releasing his arm, certain that he was now to shell-shocked to move, "You will be staying at the manor, attending school full time, and hanging up the robin uniform."

"No. You can't ask me to do that!"

"I am not asking. I am ordering," Robin bit back a sound of indignation at this, "you jeopardized the mission. You're done as Robin. The Joker could have killed you; I can't have you on missions if all you do is get hurt. There will be no more 'Robin the Boy Hostage' I won't allow it! You need to learn to be more responsible." Bruce held Robin's gaze, "It's over. You're done. Robin has already been announced as dead, and he will not be coming back."

"Fine. If you want Robin to stay dead, that's okay with me. But you trained me too well—made me what I am," Robin stared into Bruce's eyes, his face blank and void of emotion, "You can't keep me from pursuing my own destiny."

Robin didn't wait for Bruce to respond. He merely turned and walked back up the stairs to his room, still holding his tunic in his fists.

When Robin reached the safety of his room he started to take his anger out on the defenseless inanimate objects in his room. Books were knocked of their shelves, bed sheets were ripped from the mattress, pillows were pounded into a feathery mess, and the Superman nightlight he had kept all these years to annoy Bruce smashed on the floor.

Robin ran towards his mirror fist raised to strike, but stopped when he saw his reflection. He brought his finger tips up to the cool glass. It felt heavenly on his hot skin so he pressed his forehead to the surface as well.

"What should I do?"

"_Not give up Robin, that's for sure!" _Robin lurched backwards. He could have sworn the voice had come from the mirror but that was impossible. Robin could feel his eyes widening, he could feel his eyebrows rising into his hairline, and he knew that his mouth was open in shock. But the face that stared back at him from the mirror showed none of these things. That face was calm and there was a slight grin forming in the left corner of his mouth.

"Wh-who? How? Umm, What are you?"

_"A friend. Your closest friend, actually." _The doppelganger said with a shrug.

"I'm crazy aren't I?" Robin's whole body slumped with a sigh, "Guess it's Arkham for me."

_"Hey now, just because you are having a conversation with a mirror doesn't mean you've gone loopy. Flash does it all the time."_

"Yeah, with Mirror Master. So what are you a super villain or something?"

_"I already told you. I. Am. A. Friend. Would you be a friend with a super villain?"_

"I don't know if you are just a figment of my imagination or if you are some sort of Meta but I am done talking with you. Nothing good can come of it." Robin picked up one of the feathers from a destroyed pillow and twirled it between his two fingers with a pout.

_"Hey! I'm just trying to help you out here."_

"How are you supposed to help me? My life has been taken from me by the Goddamn Joker and the Goddamn Batman!" He threw the feather to the ground quite violently, but the feather refused to be abused in such a way and merely floated peacefully to the floor much to Robin's chagrin.

_"Think of me as a springboard for ideas."_

Robin got up from his seat on the floor to sit in front of his computer. His email was open along with several pop up ads. One ad had a black background and he could see the Other Robin in the darkness. "A springboard? So do you have any bright ideas springboard? Bruce won't let me be Robin anymore because of that damn Joker, but this is my life. Robin is who I am. I can't stop being who I am."

_"So don't let Bruce stop you."_

"How?"

_"…" _The Other Robin was silent but Robin could tell from the look on his face that he had an idea.

"Well, Springboard, any bright ideas?"

_"… Leave."_

"Huh?"

_"Leave."_

"How?"

_"I would suggest the door." _The smirk was back on his face and it was starting to get on Robin's nerve how this (most likely) figment of his imagination was constantly talking down to him.

"I don't have my uniform and Bruce will be in the cave."

_"Excuses, excuses! You have spare weapons up here, a spare mask, and that tunic you filched from the cave."_

"So what? I should run around pants less?"

_"Hey, it wouldn't be that big of a change from scaly underoos." _Smirk.

"That is indecent. Now I am bored of being a loony so go away Springboard."

_"Stop calling me that."_

"Then what should I call you? Mirror-Me?"

_"Only if I can call you Bitsy Bird."_ Smirk smirk smirk. It was seriously getting on Robin's nerves. As he stared at his own smirking face on the black screen of the ad something red on the screen caught his attention.

"I know the perfect name for you." Now a smirk was forming on Robin's lips, but in the opposite corner from his mirror self.

_"Oh? What's that?" _The smile spread over Robin's face as he moved the mouse to the corner of the ad and clicked.

"Red X."

**A/N: **So what did you think? any suggestions? Robin is already crazy and the story has hardly begun. And Red X! I wonder if any of you saw that coming. Oh well on the the next chapters!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Do I really have to do this for every chapter? Sigh the Teen Titans don't belong to me. Yadda yadda.

A/N: Time for the rest of the team to make their entrances. They may be a little OOC and angsty but that's just because they haven't discovered the magic of friendship yet. Also for some reason I hate writing Robin in first person but I love writing the others in first person so POV will jump around in this chapter tell me if it confuses any of you.

**The Rest Begin**

Dead. They were all dead. ! Oh God, I am going insane. Joking was one way to save yourself from pain, but inner monologues and maniacal laughter were borderline crazy.

Who am I kidding? Borderline? This was 'hitched a ride in a pick-up truck, hopped the border, got a job as a gardener, and sent the money back to mi familia with a warning not to drink the water' crazy. My team was dead, killed by an old guy, a monkey, a disembodied brain, and a Frog. Good Lord, how did we lose to someone French? Aren't their military tactics supposed to be like totally medieval?

And now I'm crazy. You know how I know that I'm crazy? Because all I can think after my TEAM, my FAMILY, died is "Guess the Doom Patrol wasn't that great at patrolling doom." And that isn't even a funny joke; it's not even a clever pun. It's just… disturbing.

And I laughed.

I think I'm gonna go throw up now.

This isn't the first time my family died. But at least my parents weren't killed by a Frog. Nope they died in a boating accident.

Accident, such a funny word. I probably could have saved them, so is it really an accident? Will people say the Doom Patrol's deaths were an accident? I hope not. I think I might really go insane if people say that… If they say it wasn't my fault.

Joking is one way to save yourself from pain, but do I really deserve to be saved? After all, I didn't save anyone else.

I think I might be cursed.

Not by some prophesy, just that I'm cursed to be constantly sore.

Take right now, for example. I am minding my own business, sitting in a mall food court, sipping some disgustingly sweet tea, and people watching. At the same time I am suffering from an intense eyesore and the biggest migraine in the history of all time.

The eyesore is easy. That stems from the abundance of miniskirts and pink. Great Azar! There is so much pink.

The migraine isn't so simple. I can't merely close my eyes and will it away. When I close my eyes the voices only get louder. And do you want to know what sucks the most? These aren't even voices I can tell to shut up, because humans (especially the miniskirt clad humans of the teenage variety) can not control their emotions (damn hormones).

That's right, I hear emotions. Well actually it's more like I feel them.

Feel them, hammering away at my skull.

I should become a hermit. Go far away where I won't have to feel all these people. Instead, I stay and try to find some reason that they deserve to live, to have a future that extends past my 17th birthday. Because maybe if I have a good enough argument Daddy Dearest will let them have a future. Yeah right.

All I know is that if I do find an argument, a reason to save Earth, that reason will not have anything to do with shopping malls, or pink, or least of all _teenagers_.

I think I might be cursed, but I know this world is doomed.

Well this is just great. My life is over. Done. Finished.

Everything I ever trained for destroyed. And that Bastard doesn't even have the decency to let me die.

Woah, pause and rewind, I did not mean to sound so emo back there. I don't want to die. Dying would suck. I also didn't mean to call him a bastard. I mean, I love my Dad, he saved my life. Not to mention my cool new metal body.

Complete with emo-slice-proof wrists. Guess the Old Man has some foresight.

It could be worse. I could have… umm… cancer. Yeah, now that would suck. Hard. There is no upside to cancer. All that happens is that you get sick, go bald, and die. Well, I already have one out of three, but being bald isn't that bad. Especially if you're black like me, now bald, white, teenagers on the other hand cannot pull off the look with as much swagger; most just come off as skinheads.

I once heard a tasteless joke that cancer comes with your own robot. Well in your face, Cancer, I AM my own robot.

I am a member of a courageous race.

I am scared.

I am a powerful warrior.

I am so weak.

I am able to carry in my skin the light of the stars.

I am afraid of the dark.

I am a survivor.

I am alone.

I am a fighter.

I am fleeing.

I am good.

I am leading Death to an unwitting planet.

I am a princess.

I am no longer a prisoner.

A/N: Like I said angst. Also I haven't read a lot of stuff with Galtry in it so I am basically making up his character as I go along. I hope there are no diehard Galtry fans waiting to slice my thought. Also don't forget to review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Do not own**

A/N: Umm not much to say so ENJOY!

**Travels**

Wasn't he Dick Grayson? That was the name his parents gave him, he was their last legacy, so why was he running? Robin closed his eyes and tried to picture his face. Pale skin beneath a dark mass of spiky black hair, his cheeks flushed from flying off buildings or fighting off the scum of the earth. But his eyes were covered by a domino mask complete with opaque lenses and his mouth was drawn in a thin line.

This was not the face of Dick Grayson. Dick's face glowed. His bright blue eyes sparkled at the smallest of joys, when not hidden behind the veil of messy black hair. A smile was constantly present on his face, even when you couldn't see it you could feel it. Dick's face filled people with warmth. What more could you expect from a boy born on the first day of spring?

Nor did it belong to Richard Grayson-Wayne. Richard's face was a slate on which anything could be written, so long as it was advantageous for Richard and his foster father. The features situated below the slick black hair were as immaculate and composed as the rest of his appearance. In fact, Richard's face had a mask-like quality to it.

But this face, this flushed, masked, weather-beaten face belonged to Robin. It was serious, had seen all the brutal realities of life, and gone up against opposition from foes, friends, fans, and family alike. Despite this, the face, Robin's face, was still as innocent as Dick's and had the composure of Richard's. But it was not Dick's face; it was not Richard's face. Those faces had been trampled, and bloodied, and left behind at the gates to Wayne Manner. All that was left was Robin. That was all that was needed.

Great. Just great. Can't a guy take a bus in this town without being stared at like he has two heads?

Alright, so I'm green. Big Whoop! You'd be green too if your parents (who were biologists) took you to Upper Lumumba, where you got bit by a monkey, and the only way to save you was an experimental treatment that turned your skin and hair green. Yeah. That's right! What do have to say now? Do you still want to stare, huh, Buddy?

Oh, you do?

Well shit, that's not very cool of you.

I just hope this Galtry guy isn't the staring type. That's where I'm headed now.

Nicholas Galtry, some old geezer who ran my parents estate while we were away, and now he's been keeping my inheritance all warm and toasty for me. Well, sorry Nikki, but it's time for me to collect.

The suck-ish part is that now he's my guardian, or something. This sucks because that would make him number three on the list of Daddy-figures that I've had, and that is two too many.

I wonder if he'll die too.

And by that I mean dye his hair. Cause I am done thinking about death. Happy thoughts are the way to go.

And there it is, Home Sweet Home.

The headaches have subsided. After hours of meditation, I have been able to squelch the flurry of unchecked, human emotion to a dull roar.

Oh, Azar! How I long for the peaceful tranquility of Azarath.

Perhaps this is my punishment. Some angry Guardian Deity of Earth, whom I have angered by bringing death to His domain, has ordered every love-stricken, self-loathing, and hormonal human to surround my person and scream every last thought, emotion, and insecurity at me until I buckle under the weight.

Too bad that I would never buckle, never bow, never bend to anyone's will.

More likely, I would deliver a quick death to the source of those mental battering rams.

And there it is. The reason why I will fight the prophesy.

Not for these humans. Not for the Earth.

I will fight because I will not buckle, not bow, not break.

I fight for my sin.

I fight for Pride.

It's the thought that counts, I guess.

And it must have cost a pretty penny.

And the view IS stunning,

And, oh screw it.

Dad, FYI you suck at presents.

Really, really, really suck. I mean aren't you supposed to be super smart? Where, in that big brain of yours, do you get off thinking an island, A FREAKING ISLAND, is a good gift for a teenage boy?

What were you thinking? "Hey, he's just had his whole life turned upside down. He can't have normal friends, because he is now a freak. He can't play sports, because he has an unfair advantage. He can't go out in public, because people will run in terror. I know, why don't we get him an island and, as a cherry on the crap cake, we'll also get him a hut to go along with it!" A hut, a god damn hut. Well it may not get even basic cable but it sure as hell has a great view! Boo-fucking-Yah!

You know what would make a really good gift? A video game, a foot ball, a playboy magazine, those are the things teenage boys want. Not islands. NOT HUTS!"

Victor put his face in his hands and sat on his little island across the water from a city he would never truly belong to.

A few hours of staring later and Vic felt a presence behind him, "Go away."

"I just was wondering… What do you think? Do you like it?"

Victor turned to look at the man behind him, "Like it? Like it? Are you fucking serious?"

"Victor, I—"

"Just shut up, Old Man. All my life you've used me, forced me to be what you wanted me to be. And all my life I fought you. But you won, didn't you? Curse you, man- I'm exactly what you want now! I hate you, old man! I hate you!" Tears started to pour from the cybernetic teen's human eye, "Damn it, why didn't you let me die? Why couldn't you let me die!"

Silias continued to stare at his son. It seemed so wrong to see the buff young man now even more impressive with his… upgrades, bawling like a baby. With no answer forthcoming, Vic turned from his father.

"Take your island and shove it, Old Man. I don't need anything from you. Anyway," Vic wrapped metal fingers around the minimal amount of human skin that was visible on his upper arms, "haven't you already done enough?"

I am on fire.

It courses through my veins, aching for release.

So I grant it.

The darkness is filled with a blinding green flash.

I am filled with righteous fury.

It burns.

I am on fire.

A/N: Cyborgs part was pretty intense huh? Actually his little freak out was ripped from the comics. In the comics it took place in STAR labs but I liked it better on the island. Also I haven't read a lot of Galtry so I am pretty much making him up as I go along. I hope there are no die hard Galtry fans out there ready to rip out my heart.

Oh and here are the titan's statuses:

Robin- heading West from Gotham

BB- In California at Galrty's house in a rich neighborhood

Rae- In Jump City researching humans

Cy- In Jump City avoiding humans

Star- In Space running from the Gordanians heading towards Earth


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Not mine Boohoo**

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews! I am so happy! So **emotionalpoemgirl** this chapter is dedicated to you complete with POV breaks and names. Thankyou for the reviews and the favs.

**To Dream Away the Day…With Nightmares**

-**Robin-**

_As the boy walked down the alley he couldn't help but notice how dark it was. A starless sky stretched above him as he made his way down between the tall buildings on either side of him. So tall that they pierced the sky, the tops of the buildings concealed from view. The boy tried to wonder what would happen if he climbed one of the buildings. Would he die of suffocation as he left Earth's atmosphere behind? Would he reach Heaven? Somehow he thought the first scenario was more likely._

_ He didn't dwell on these questions for long. The thoughts came and went quickly, slipping through his naked fingers like sand through a sieve, leaving him with vague remnants of thought. It was only now that he turned his thoughts to his naked fingers, and those thoughts invariably led him to pondering the rest of his body. It too was bare. The only thread to be found was over his heart where a red string had been sewn into his skin. Running his fingers over the thread he struggled to discover what the pattern meant. A symbol. No, wait, not a symbol, it was a letter. But what letter? He could not remember._

_ He continued down the alley glass, sharp stones, and various other painful objects cutting into the soles of bare feet. But he was a fool; the bloody footprints he left behind were entirely his fault. Any one with a brain knows that to bear your soul in this harsh environment is only going to result in pain._

_ His hand slipped from his chest as he passed the first door. Ahead he could see many others set at odd intervals into the walls on either side of him. The first door opened, but the boy did not stop. As he passed the other doors, they too opened. He did not have to look hard to recognize the bodies that cast long shadows across his path. Two-Face, Joker, Penguin, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Man-Bat, Killer Croc, Mr. Freeze, Scarecrow, Zucco, and many more presented themselves as he walked by._

_ Finally he reached the end of the alley and found himself faced with an antique, grandfather clock. The boy recognized it immediately as belonging to the study, and yet he found nothing wrong with it being in a dingy alleyway surrounded by dozens of criminals. In fact the only thing that struck him as odd was the time displayed upon the clock. The time displayed was not set to 10:47 as the boy had expected but instead to 8:36. This in itself would not have been odd, had the clock not started to move slowly revealing a dark passage._

_ With nothing to do but move forward, the boy walked through the portal. Something was wrong. He started to shiver. It shouldn't be so open here, there shouldn't be clear sky over head, he should feel claustrophobic, and he should be looking up at a stone ceiling littered with the constant fluttering of leather wings instead of the twinkling stars. But here he was; no clock in sight, no villains, no bats. Just a long road ahead of him, an insignia stitched into his skin, and a sign above him informing all who pass: "You are now leaving Gotham City"._

**-Beastboy-**

_ The waves crashed against the sides of the boat. A woman held her child close to her chest as the rain pelted down around them. Another pair of arms encircled around them, and the family was complete._

_ The small boy turned his dark green eyes to his father's face. He was so scared._

_ Lightning flashed in the sky. The flashes illuminated the family, turning the couples tan skin and sandy blond hair ghostly white. Wide eyed and terrified, mouths wide and teeth exposed in silent screams, their cheekbones casting gaunt shadows down their faces causing the couple to look like skeletons._

_ Their son was wrapped tightly in a hooded jacket that he had taken to wearing constantly. Thus he was spared from the effects of the lightning._

_ With a CRACK a bolt of lightning descended into the ship's deck. The wood began to flame and splinter._

_ The boy was so scared, so young. Fight or flight. He was so weak, he could not fight lightning. But he could fly._

_ As the boy soared away from the burning boat, he chanced a last look at his skeletal parents._

_ But instead of their boney fingers wrapped around each other and the space where their son used to be, he saw a completely different group of people. _

_ First there was an African Chief and his tribe._

_ A flash of lightning illuminated the scene._

_ A group of odd people dressed in purple and black uniforms appeared where the tribe had been._

_ A flash of lightning illuminated the scene._

_ A small blonde haired, tan skinned, green eyed boy stood alone in the fiery remains of the ship. And then sank with it to a watery grave._

**-Raven-**

_ She sat alone in a dark place. _

_She sat alone in a bright meadow. _

_She sat alone in a maze. _

_She sat alone under a star filled sky._

_ She was never alone._

_ He was there. He watched her sitting. He made plans for her. _

_Plans to use her. _

_Plans to destroy. _

_Plans to rule._

_ She knew of his plans._

_ Still she did nothing._

_ Except sit._

_ She sat alone, because she was alone. _

_She sat alone, because she did not know how not to be alone. _

_She sat alone, because there was no one else she cared to stand for._

_She sat alone, because there was no one else to stand with her. _

_ She sat alone, because she could not stand alone._

**-Cyborg-**

_ He was running._

_ Fast, faster, faster, faster!_

_ He ran faster than he ever had run before._

_Then he tripped._

_He hadn't been aware that he had been running from anything until it over took him. _

_Wires latched onto his skin, eating away at his body, and twisting around his form until he was no more than a mass of cords and cables._

_He could feel skin growing over the cables. He scratched desperately at the new skin. He did not want those wires inside him, but he couldn't tear it. The skin was hard and cold._

_It smelt like blood. But he was not bleeding. Despite his broken, deformed body there was no blood._

_It was metal._

_Where veins once were now there were wires. Where there was skin now there was a metal casing._

_Where a young man had been now was machine._

**-Starfire-**

_Trapped._

_Darkness._

_Falling._

_Here there are no happy thoughts to raise her up._

_Here there are no open skies for her to explore._

_Here there are no sunbeams to charge her body._

_Fear._

_Here there is much of that._

A/N: I love this chapter! I hope you did too. Once again Robin sort of took over but he is my favorite maskateer so it can be forgiven. Also I hope splitting up the POVs helped remove any confusion.

Sidenote: Did anyone notice that in the beginning of Raven's dream she is in all the places in her mind? Or did that just fly over people's heads.

Also the times mentioned on the clock are supposed to be the time of deaths for Bruce and Robin's parents. If I got the times wrong please tell me.


End file.
